Status

Recent Statuses

2 mos ago
Current Shoutout to that German punk band that follows me on Instagram even though I don't speak German. Love you, DAMNIAM!
1 like
2 mos ago
Just totaled my car. RIP Bradley the Saturn Ion 2004-2018. Also RIP that utility pole I hit.
4 mos ago
Motherfucker, if I submit an application to work for you online, don't respond back telling me to complete the application and give me a link that sends me to do an entirely different, brand new one.
1 like
4 mos ago
The "left" ranges from "let's legalize marijuana and welfare is cool" to "let's lynch all the landlords and bankers" and that's amazing.
3 likes
5 mos ago
If Don Juan is actually pronounced as Don Jew-un, I might actually start crying.
1 like

Bio

"In sixty days you'll be fighting Billy Petrolle, and you think it's a big fat joke."

"I don't think it's a joke, sir."

"Don't interrupt."

"And say 'sir,' when you do."

"Yes, sir."

"Weren't you just ordered not to interrupt?"

"But I didn't interrupt, sir."

"No, and you didn't say sir, either. Add that to the charges against him. Failure to say 'sir' to superior officers when not interrupting them."

"Metcalf, you're a goddamn fool, do you know that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then keep your goddamn mouth shut. You don't make any sense."

"Now, what did you mean when you said we couldn't punish you?"

"When, sir?"

"I'm asking the questions, you're answering them."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Did you think we brought you here for you to ask questions and for me to answer them?"

"No, sir. I-"

"What did we bring you here for?"

"To answer questions."

"You're goddamn right. Now, suppose you start answering some before I break your goddamn head. Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?"

"I don't think I ever made that statement, sir."

"Will you speak up, please. I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Will you speak up, please? He couldn't hear you.'

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Metcalf."

"Sir?"

"Didn't I tell you to keep your stupid mouth shut?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then keep your stupid mouth shut when I tell you to keep your stupid mouth shit. Do you understand? Now, will you speak up please, I couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I-"

"Metcalf, is that your foot I'm stepping on?"

"No, sir. It must be Lieutenant Schiesskopf's foot."

"It isn't my foot."

"Then maybe it is my foot after all."

"Move it."

"Yes, sir. You'll have to move your foot first, Colonel."

"Are you telling me to move my foot?"

"No, sir. Oh, no, sir."

"Then move your foot and keep your stupid mouth shut. Will you speak up, please? I still couldn't hear you."

"Yes, sir. I said that I didn't say you couldn't punish me."

"Just what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm answering your question, sir."

"What question?"

"'Just what the hell did you mean, you bastard, when you said we couldn't punish you?'"

"All right. Just what the hell did you mean?"

"I didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."

"When?"

"When what, sir?"

"Now you're asking me questions again."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand your question."

"When didn't you say we couldn't punish you? Don't you understand my question?"

"No, sir. I don't understand."

"You've just told us that. Now suppose you answer my question."

"But how can I answer it?"

"That's another question you're asking me."

"I'm sorry, sir. But I don't know how to answer it. I never said you couldn't punish me."

"Now you're telling us when you did say it. I'm asking you to tell me when you didn't say it."

"I always didn't say you couldn't punish me, sir."

"That's much better, Mr. Clevinger, even though it is a barefaced lie. Last night in the latrine. Didn't you whisper that we couldn't punish you to that other dirty son of a bitch we don't like. What's his name?"

"Yossarian, sir."

"Yes, Yossarian. That's right. Yossarian. Yossarian? Is that his name? Yossarian? What the hell kind of name is Yossarian?"

"It's Yossarian's name, sir."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Didn't you whisper to Yossarian that we couldn't punish you?"

"Oh, no, sir. I whispered to him that you couldn't find me guilty-"

"I may be stupid, but the distinction escapes me. I guess I am pretty stupid, because the distinction escapes me."

"W-"

"You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you? Nobody asked you for a clarification and you're giving me a clarification. I was making a statement, not asking for a clarification. You're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"No, sir."

"'No, sir?' Are you calling me a goddamn liar?"

"Oh, no, sir."

"Then you're a windy son of a bitch, aren't you?"

"No, sir."

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Are you a windy son of a bitch?"

"No, sir."

"Goddammit, you are trying to pick a fight with me. For two stinking cents, I'd jump over this big fat table and rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb."

"Do it! Do it!"

"Metcalf, you stinking son of a bitch. Didn't I tell you to keep your stinking, cowardly, mouth shut?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Then suppose you do it."

"I'm only trying to learn, sir. The only way a person can learn is by trying."

"Who says so?"

"Everybody says so, sir. Even Lieutenant Schiesskopf says so."

"Do you say so?"

"Yes, sir. But everybody says so."

"Well, Metcalf, suppose you try keeping that stupid mouth of yours shut, and maybe that's the way you'll learn how. Now, where we? Read me back my last line."

"'Read me back my last line.'"

"Not my last line, stupid! Somebody else's."

"'Read me back my last line.'"

"That's my last line again!"

"Oh, no, sir. That's my last line. I read it to you just a moment ago. Don't you remember, sir? It was only a moment ago."

"Oh, my God! Read me back his last line, stupid. Say, what the hell's your name, anyway?"

"Popinjay, sir."

"Well, you're next, Popinjay. As soon as this trial ends, your trial begins. Get it?"

"Yes, sir. What will I be charged with?"

"What the hell difference does that make? Did you hear what he asked me? You're going to learn, Popinjay-the minute we finish with Clevinger, you're going to learn. Cadet Clevinger, what did- You are Cadet Clevinger, aren't you, and not Popinjay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, what did-"

"I'm Popinjay, sir."

"Popinjay, is your father a millionaire, or a member of the senate?"

"No, sir."

"Then you're up shit creek, Popinjay, without a paddle. He's not a general or a high-ranking member of the Administration, is he?"

"No, sir."

"That's good. What does your father do?"

"He's dead, sir."

"That's very good. You really are up the creek, Popinjay. Is Popinjay really your name? Just what the hell kind of name is Popinjay, anyway? I don't like it."

"It's Popinjay's name, sir."

"Well, I don't like it, Popinjay, and I just can't wait to rip your stinking, cowardly body apart limb from limb. Cadet Clevinger, will you please repeat what the hell you did or didn't say to Yossarian late last night in the latrine?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't say you couldn't find me guilty-"

"We'll take it from there. Precisely what did you mean, Cadet Clevinger, when you said we couldn't find you guilty?"

"I didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir."

"When?"

"When what, sir?"

"Goddamnit, are you going to start pumping me again?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Then answer the question. When didn't you say we couldn't find you guilty."

"Last night in the latrine, sir."

"Is that the only time you didn't say it?"

"No, sir. I always didn't say you couldn't find me guilty, sir. What I did say to Yossarian was-"

"Nobody asked you what you did say to Yossarian. We asked you what you didn't say to him. We're not at all interested in what you did say to Yossarian. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then we'll go on. What did you say to Yossarian?"

"I said to him, sir, that you couldn't find me guilty of the offense with which I am charged and still be faithful to the cause of..."

"Of what? You're mumbling."

"Stop mumbling."

"Yes, sir."

"And mumble 'sir' when you do."

"Metcalf, you bastard!"

"Yes, sir. Of justice, sir. That you couldn't find-"

"Justice? What's justice?"

"Justice, sir-"

"That's not what justice is. That's what Karl Marx is I'll tell you what justice is. Justice is a knee in the gut from the floor on the chin at night sneaky with a knife brought up down on the magazine of a battleship sandbagged underhanded in the dark without a word of warning. Garroting. That's what justice is when we've al got to be tough enough and rough enough to fight Billy Petrolle. From the hip. Get it?"

"No, sir."

"Don't sir me!"

"Yes, sir."

"And say 'sir,' when you don't."

Most Recent Posts

Kaivor Igvrius
Husband of Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00
Interacting with: Kendra

"Yes, I think that would be, ah, prudent." The tension was leaving his muscles, albiet slowly. It had been years and years since anything had set him so off-kilter. The Berserker had been something like a bedtime story to him, as a child. Something he'd feared. He'd been young then, sure, not even old enough to hold a blade. He'd long thought himself free of such juvenile fears, but hearing that brute's name had rekindled something within him. He took another breath.

Steady, Kaivor.

"Though, I fear that finding my brother will be-"

"Come on then!" Delleck's shouting was audible over the din of conversation. "Put that pigsticker away and fight me with your hands!" Kaivor cringed involuntarily. It seemed as though his thoroughly drunk brother was picking a fight with some also-drunk minor lordling or another.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Kaivor muttered, looking at Kendra with exasperation before hurriedly moving to keep his brother from getting himself killed.




The Igvrius family had a manor in the city, and Kaivor was thankful for that, but he wished that it hadn't gone quite so long without use. The manor, smaller than some of the ones that surrounded it, had clearly been empty for years and years until recently. Despite leaning toward the smaller side, it could have supported more people than Kaivor had brought with him. A handful of servants and guards, and his brother was the extent of his entourage. The manor, clearly designed for the purpose of entertaining guests, seemed empty. Quiet. Delleck tried his best to remedy this.

"Ah, shit to yer caution. I could have taken 'im!" He roared, indignant.

"I'll not have you run through and dead so young because you couldn't hold your drink."

"I'll not have- not have, uh..." He trailed off, persumably having forgotten his witty retort. Kaivor clenched his fist. Were the man not of his own blood...

"Go to bed, Dell."

"You first." Delleck seemed satisfied with getting the last word in, and stumbled off to his room. Kaivor let out a long breath, then turned to his bride.

"It's getting late. I would think we should, ah, retire soon." He cleared his throat. "Would you like a drink, first?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Two, perhaps?"





Aryll Imaali

At some point, though Aryll didn't know when, exactly, fear replaced the anger. The standing biterness that had risen in her throat when she met her new husband was replaced with abject terror and a strong self-preservation instinct. The Drakan, her husband, was dead. There was no grief, but in the few moments she had to observe the body, she felt sick. He was scarcely recognizable.

Then the murderer, the one who introduced himself as Höd Ultair, was all over her. She was immobilized, frozen by some primal thought that if she stood still enough he'd leave her alone. It almost worked. The brute seemed done with her, be she was cast off into a crowd of guards, who were all too eager to have her. One grabbed her by the arm, and she wound up with her other arm and slapped him across the face with all of her strength. His head didn't move an inch, the impact of her blow scarcely registering with him. It did, however, seem to surprise him enough for him to loosen his grip on her arm. She twisted as hard and she could, and wormed her way out of his grasp. As she backed away, she tripped over something and fell hard onto her back. As she craned her neck to see what had caused her to fall, she found herself practically sitting on her dead husband's mangled corpse. She let out a squeak of horror and scrambled backward, away from the body and the guards. The body didn't move, of course, but the guards were pacing toward her now. She screamed, practically screeched, desperate.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Her eyes franctically scanned the assembled Drakken. "Help me, please!"
@Vesuvius00 Don't worry about it. I get it. I'm hardly a speed poster, myself.
@Ellion Kaivor is on hold for a Kendra post, but I'll get an Aryll post up tonight.
Dexter





If Dexter was doing his math right, he'd gone about three years without getting tossed through a plate glass window in a bar. He could see, in his mind, a downcast worker changing the "days without incident" sign from about one-thousand-and-ninety-five to zero. It was an amusing image, far more amusing that what he was actually seeing.

Himself, laying in a pile of broken glass, with a demon leering at him from the ground-floor bar window it had just tossed him out of.

What a smug asshole.

He rose to his knees with a groan, feeling his back pop. He could already feel, in his pocket, his half-pack of cigarettes crushed beyond hope. His flask seemed alright, though, and so he took it out of his jacket pocket and took a drink. He'd like to have been able to get his glass from the bar, but the demon had not been so courteous as to allow him to gather his things before throwing him out of a window.

The thing saw that his only defense, apparently, was a flask. He could feel it sneering at him. It tensed, and so do he. Then, with savage speed, it leapt through the now-empty window frame at him. Dexter didn't even have to focus, the spell came so easily to him. There were plenty of mages who learned all kinds of magic, diversifying their abilities.

Not Dex. He knew one spell, and knew it well.

Instantly, there was a spear in his hand. The demon didn't even have time to be surprised, as it leapt directly onto the tip of the conjured spear. Dexter held the thing aloft for a moment, before slamming it into the ground, withdrawing his spear, and then plunging it back into the demon's throat before it could respond. It was dead, and for the moment, he was safe.

Then, he saw the psy barriers go up, and he was on the wrong side of them.

"Son of a bitch." He mumbled, looking around. Demons, tons of them. People, too, terrified people. He let the spear dissipate, but knew it would only be a matter of time before he had to conjure a different weapon. He sighed. The way he figured, the only way he was getting out of this one would be finding whoever in the hell was responsible for the demons, and dispatching them with the quickness.

He didn't know where such a dickhead would be located, but he figured that it was a pretty good idea to start headed in the general direction that the demons were coming from. He opened his flask and took one last drink, draining it.

"Here we go."
Kaivor Igvrius
Husband of Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00
Interacting with: Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00]


"That would be my brother, Delleck." Kaivor sighed, exasperated at the mere thought of him. "He's, ah, energetic." Polite words that belied impolite thoughts. Delleck had a way of getting to him like no one else did. He had a short temper, he knew, but Delleck had a way of shortening it. Only the fact that Delleck was of his own blood kept him from lashing out at him.

He was snapped out of his own musings by Kendra, who moved behind him. He was confused, until he took notice of the commotion.

Rynek Darion...

He was amused, at first, maybe even a little delighted. Some bastard barging into a feast to demand something from the royal family. A man after his own heart, it seemed. He could see pretty quickly, however, that the situation was fast becoming dangerous. His eyes darted around, once again taking stock of the room and its exits.

Then a man that had mocked Rynek had some unlucky smaller Drakkan by the face. Kaivor had done his research. Chances were that he might've recognized the man, had the brute's hand not been in the way. When the body fell to the floor, there was little enough face for Kaivor to try and recognized. He looked at the dead man and his cast aside bride with something almost like pity.

What a waste.

Kaivor's brows raised of their own accord when he heard the brute's name. Ultair. He knew it, of course. His father had told him all manner of stories. His father had been terrified of the Berserker, and so had Kaivor, as a child. He didn't know how true his father's stories were, but the name made him uneasy.

He looked back at the dead man's bride, and he looked over his shoulder to see Kendra there.

"Stay close." He said, perhaps a bit more gruffly than he intended. As much as he wanted to leave, he couldn't without Delleck. Plus, he couldn't help but want to see how things ended up for Rynek. He settled down a bit once the Ultair was headed away. "Don't worry, he's leaving." Though his voice was steady, it felt like he was speaking to himself as much as Kendra.

Orrin


Practice



"One minute?!"

Orrin looked and sounded horrified, his mouth agape. He looked like someone had told him that he had a minute to live, instead of a minute to catch his breath. Then, he closed his eyes, and a blissful calm came over him. A broad smile lit up his face and, for the next few moments, he forgot that he was surrounded by other students.

"One minute! Of course! One minute is just long enough to get loose!"

He turned his neck to the left and to the right, audible pops sounding off as he did so.

"Yes! Loose...loose and..." He twisted at the hips, and a chorus of defeaning cracking sounded as his back popped. "...limber!"

You actually just said that out loud, didn't you?

He looked down at the ground, face burning a bit.

You only get one chance to make a first impression.

He gulped, looking for somewhere to flee to. He found his safe harbor in the form of three students. A blonde-haired boy with pants in a state of disrepair, a faunus girl, and a girl with white hair. He tried to think of the lesson he'd learned from the "limber" incident just moments ago.

Be cool. He thought for a moment. Do I say 'hi' or 'hello?" His eyes widened. No! Of course! All the coolest hunters say...

"Yo."

@Tominas @Driving Park @Norschtalen
Aryll's post is up. I just edited it into Kaivor's post.
Kaivor Igvrius
Husband of Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00
Interacting with: Kendra Riu Bell @Vesuvius00]

Kaivor’s eye twitched ever-so-slightly as Gaelnesh walked away. There was much he had wanted to say, but little enough time to say it. His rational mind told him this was a good thing, that it had been smart of him to offer nothing but a terse nod and some succinct words of gratitude. So, he took long, slow breaths. Finally, he sighed, the twitching ceasing.

In lieu of a proper guard, he’d brought his oldest brother, Delleck. Dell was younger than he by about thirty years, and the older of his younger two brothers. A good fighter with a thick head, Dell had just enough tact to keep silent while Gaelnesh was present, but not so much as to keep him from voicing his thoughts when he’d gone.

Fucking prick.” He muttered, only just audible. Kaivor allowed himself a brief chuckle. Their father had called Gaelnesh all sorts of things, but ‘prick’ was a favorite. “Kai, you lucky bastard.” Kaivor was a confused for a moment, but it didn’t take him long to understand. He sighed, shot his brother a look, and turned to examine the bride he’d been almost too preoccupied to notice. As he did, the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, something almost resembling a smile. It passed quickly.

She undid her hair and spoke.

"I am Kendra Riu Bell, of Haarale."

At least Gaelnesh has good taste, he thought.

"and what might I call you, M'lord?"

“I am Lord Kaivor Igvrius.” He said, flatly, formally, awkwardly. He, admittedly, hadn’t put much thought into how he’d act around his bride. His father had always been harsh to his brides, but they’d all died almost as soon as they’d given birth. He decided to lighten up, just a bit. “You will take pains to not follow my brother’s example. Never call me Kai.” The words were commanding, perhaps, but his tone was light. “You may call me ‘Kaivor,’ if you wish. Otherwise, I do believe that ‘Lord Husband’ or ‘Lord Igvrius’ will be fine.”

Well, that’s all well and good.” Delleck roughly threw his arm around Kaivor’s shoulder. “But, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a feast to enjoy.” He let go of Kaivor, turned on his heel, and scampered off to go, most likely, to drink himself into a stupor. Kaivor sighed in exasperation.

“Tell me, Kendra.” Kaivor turned to her, and then looked around at the feast. “Are you hungry?”






Aryll Imaali
Bride of Zevi Mael@BlackPanther
Interacting with: Zevi @BlackPanther

Aryll had begrudgingly left the springs, disappointed that her attempted conversation with the girl who’d stood had been cut short. She did as she was told, and though she felt compelled to tell the guards exactly where they could shove their commands, she didn’t. She couldn’t tell if the desire to resist being overcome by a sense of self-preservation was an actual conflict, or just a repeated pattern of cowardice.

She struggled with that all the way to the capital, once again retreating inward. She spoke nary a word, only nodding and occasionally grunting in acknowledgement the few times she was directly spoken to by the guards.

She only really started paying attention to her surroundings when she was yanked out of a line by the younger of the two princes and brought before a younger-looking Drakkan. He was handsome, she had to admit, and he certainly seemed less… severe than some of the other Drakken she’d seen. Still, though, she couldn’t suppress the bitterness that rose in her throat. It burned and she wanted to scream.

She bit her tongue, and the pain brought her back to reality. She didn’t speak, didn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes trained firmly on the ground. If she spoke, her voice might break, and she wouldn’t let the Drakkan hear that. She clenched her fists, and tried to keep her hands from shaking. It might’ve been out of fear.

Or anger.


Aryll Imaali

Interacting with: Onyx Briyll @Vesuvius00

Aryll had always considered herself a social creature, but fear and despair had a way of making some people retreat inwards. It was only natural, she supposed, but she just didn’t feel like herself. Ever since she’d bowed to the Drakkan out of fear and saved her own skin, she’d scarcely spoken a word. Not through lessons, not through the night, and certainly not at breakfast. She’d directed that energy normally reserved for speaking to her thoughts. Her mind had few enough kind words.

Coward. She was still kicking herself over her refusal to stand, but couldn’t help but feel relieved after seeing what had happened to the protesters. She felt guilty, craven.

What would father think? Perhaps it was the naivete of youth, but as far as Aryll was concerned, her father was the strongest person she knew. Not perfect, she was old enough to know that. He’d taught her about the importance of self-sufficiency, of strength while simultaneously trying to shield her from the world. Her father would be horrified at her current situation, but she knew that he’d also want his daughter to be brave. Would he be disappointed?

She was glad for the hot springs. It rekindled some anger, that she’d been treated so poorly that a bath was cause for celebration, but it didn’t it stop her from smiling to herself as she finally dropped her towel to the side and lowered herself into one of the deeper pools. There, she was content to submerge herself in the water with some of the other, more introverted gems.

She watched with a slight smile as the splashing fight started, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders, even though she wasn’t actively involved in it.

Eventually, another gem made her way to their pool. Aryll recognized her, one of those who’d stood in the dining hall. It would’ve been easy to remain silent and just enjoy the water, but maybe some part of her regular personality was still there. She turned to the newcomer.

“You were one of those who stood, right?” She asked, earnestly. She’d tried to speak conversationally, but some her admiration must’ve slipped into her words. “Does- does it still hurt?”


Edric





How could we be so stupid?

Edric and Azamor thought as one, their temporarily-unified mind running on one track.

Our sword.

It had been foolish, they realized, not to have their sword on them. More than foolish, idiotic. It was difficult for them to discern which of their thoughts were Azamor's and which were Edric's, but it seemed as though those fragments of oneness that belonged to Azamor blamed Edric for not having the sword, and Edric's fragments were defensive. After all, it was an International Expo, not the open road. It seemed silly to carry around a sword.

Stupid.

It was a good thing that Azamor had convinced Edric to keep their dagger on them. There were demons in the dozens around them, but they ignored most of them, single-mindedly heading toward the rental locker where they were keeping Edric's sword. Those that got directly in their way were quickly felled with savage precision, mostly courtesy of Azamor's countless years of experience with all manner of weaponry.

Both would be more comfortable with a sword in their hands. Once they got the sword, they wouldn't need to maintain the Duality.

So they kept moving.
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